


born to make history

by norgbelulah



Series: Born To Royal AU [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-07 05:35:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8785183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norgbelulah/pseuds/norgbelulah
Summary: Victor Nikiforov, Heir Tsesarevich and Grand Duke of Russia, needs a husband and only a Japanese Prince will do.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to some friends (those who have, have not, and those I've made watch the show) who were very encouraging.

“After four years at Oxford and another five at the London School of Economics, I return to St. Petersburg and his only directive is to find a husband?” 

Victor Nikiforov, Heir Tsesarevich and Grand Duke of Russia, stared at his former tutor, the esteemed Yakov Feltsman, and tapped his finger lightly on the great oak writing desk that once belonged to his great-grandfather. His great-grandfather, who was also named Victor, a younger brother of the doomed tsar, who saved Russia from the Bolsheviks in the early 20th century. Victor tapped on the desk and thought of how sturdy it was, like his namesake, like he wanted to be for his country, his Empire.

“Or, wife,” Yakov finally said. “He did not stipulate gender, Your Imperial Highness. Only that he desires an alliance through marriage be made on your part to secure good relations with one of our Sister Empires.”

“He means Japan,” Victor replied through gritted teeth.

“He said only an Empire. The choice lies with you.”

“The heirs of Imperial China are all children. None within an appropriate marriageable age. Since it seems he does not want me to wait, I shall not look there. Nor would it be my preference to marry anyone fifteen years my junior. Cousins have recently married into both the British and Portuguese empires, so we do not need to solidify those ties at this time, and my mother’s favorite aunt is the Empress Regent of Spain. We have no familial ties in Asia at all, so it is with Japan father desires me to make a match.” 

Victor was tired of having to prove to everyone he understood the machinations of statehood and the role he was expected to play. At 27, he was better educated than any other member of the royal family, and more than ready to begin working for his country in earnest. But he’d slowly recited the reasons for his decision to Yakov, who would in turn report back to his father, Tsar Alexander IV.

“Do you know who you will choose?” Yakov asked calmly, betraying no surprise at Victor’s innate grasp of the desires of his father and the needs of the Empire, nor any anger at Victor’s clear impatience.

“Give me a goddamned moment to think about it,” Victor snapped. He stood from his chair and paced over to the window, which overlooked his beloved city, with its ancient spires and the long hallways of the Winter Palace. “There’s so many of them,” he muttured.

“So many?”

“Heirs,” Victor rolled his eyes. “The Emperor of Japan has a pack of sons all with sons and daughters of their own. Father knows they’re all scrambling for something to do with their lives. One will readily accept a proposal, especially from me, but I can’t just pick his name out of a hat, now can I?”

Yakov only shrugged.

Victor strode back to the desk and snatched up his phone, thumbing through the apps until he landed on Instagram. “I can barely remember what any of these boys look like. They’re all sent to study at Harvard and Todai. I believe I met one or two at my uncle’s funeral in Spain last year but--”

“Your father did not stipulate that the match must be with--

Victor gave Yakov a long-suffering look, which effectively silenced him. “I understand the complications, but there is nothing barring me from choosing my preference. I won’t compromise that, Yakov, and you can go directly and tell my father so.”

Yakov’s lips twitched in what Victor fondly remembered was a suppressed smile, usually one of pride. “Of course, Your Imperial Highness. I’ll leave you to your decision.”

Victor waved him out and turned to lean against the great desk where his country’s history had been forged. He looked briefly up to smile at the sun shining down on his city, then turned his attention down to the smiling face of a black-haired prince, dressed in athletic clothes, arms thrust out wide, as though he were spinning. 

Victor pressed play on the video.

 

“Yuuri, let me take it!” Yuko called to him across the ice. “You’re so good. You’ve really been practicing in America!”

Yuuri smiled at her praise. “Boston has cold winters, Yuko-chan,” he called back as he skated towards her. The truth was, even in summer, Yuuri had paid for private ice-time at a rink in Cambridge. Now that he was done with his degree at Harvard, he was glad to be back at the small Hasestu Ice Castle at the base of his family’s estate. Yuuri loved the solitude of the rink in the very early morning, or late at night. He loved that he could just skate, just glide and soar, and no one would bother him.

Not that Yuuri got as much bother as other members of his family. Being from the Kyushu branch of the Imperial family, his father and mother were often written off as country bumpkins and were usually the first guests crossed off lists for family functions. 

Not that his parents, or even his sister Mari, cared. They loved their small estate in their small community, with their hot springs and their length of coast. They loved that it hardly mattered to anyone in Hasetsu that they were, in effect, or in myth anyway, the descendents of a god and the children of Japan’s beloved Emperor.

Yuko, his childhood friend and herself the descendant of a long line of family retainers, brandished his phone, which he had carelessly left on the rail at the edge of the ice. “Let me take a video,” she said.

Yuuri stuck his tongue out at her. “I saw you press the button. You’re taking it anyway!”

“So do the routine!” The camera shook as she waved him on.

“So play the music!” 

When she did, he struck his pose. 

Yuuri was untutored, he knew, and his choreography was simple, but his own, self-taught from years watching professionals on television and in the audience at competitions. It was a private hobby for a private prince, one he’d never cared to share with many others before. But once he finished his brief dance, after swaying and swerving around the ice with two little jumps--a waltz and a lutz--and a sit spin, he thought, perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to share it with the world.

Yuuri’s grandfather, the Emperor Hisahito, encouraged all his family to, with wisdom and circumspect, share their lives on social media. He enjoyed having over twenty grandchildren, and enjoyed the world knowing that they were all beautiful, successful people. He bragged often about the virility and fertility of his sons and daughters. 

The internet was yet another, more youth-friendly, way to show the world the strength of Japan and its Imperial House, and one in which Yuuri had rarely ever participated. More often than not, his social media posts were locked as private, only accessible to friends and close family.

But now, with Yuko urging him on, he watched himself skate to the muted, tinny music, an Italian aria a friend told him was about love, and smiled. He watched himself, flushed and happy, skate up to Yuko and snatch his phone from her, heard his playful voice cry, “Give it back,” before the video cut out. 

Yuuri took a breath, and uploaded the whole thing to Instagram, with no privacy settings, for everyone to see.

 

Two days later, Yuuri came home after an early morning skate to find his entire family gathered, in formal kimono, holding a hushed conversation in the drawing room of the castle, a large, but somehow stuffy space no one ever used unless something important was going on.

“What is it?” Yuuri asked as he stepped onto the dusty tatami. “Has something happened to--”

“Yuuri. You’re back. Great. Perfect. Come here. God, what are you wearing?” Minako, his parents’ Chief of Staff--in reality she was more of a secretary and chief of only five other people--yelled across the room.

Yuuri froze. “I was just down at the Ice Castle. No one was skating so I stayed longer than usual. Um, I thought maybe I could spend more time there, since I’m finished at school. Like, maybe to run it for a while, if--”

“There’s no time for that now,” Minako said, striding forward and looking him up and down despairingly. “There isn’t even time for you to change. And, ugh, those glasses! He’s going to take one look at you and walk right out the door,” she wailed.

Yuuri stepped back at cast a wild glance at his parents, who were sitting at the table, on plush satin pillows, and smiling gently at him. “What’s going on?” He asked cautiously.

Yuuri’s mother, Hiroko, beamed and said, “There’s a visitor here to see you, Yuurihito.” 

Yuuri stood up straighter, since she used his formal, princely name. “W-who?”

A shadow passed into the doorway behind Yuuri. He saw it move slowly across the floor. “Oh, I hope I’m not interrupting a family meeting,” a low voice said over Yuuri’s shoulder.

Yuuri spun, awkwardly, to stare into the face of a tall caucasian man, who while not instantly familiar to him, was at the very least recognizable. “Y-you’re…” Yuuri could not speak his name. His tongue was tied. His brain was leaking out his ears. What was...he...doing here?

Yuuri’s father, who was always a little slow but very gracious in formal social situations, saved him. He motioned for the visitor to step further into the room, and came to stand by Yuuri. “Grand Duke Victor Nikiforov of Russia, please allow me to present my second born child and only son, Prince Yuurihito of Kyushu.”

Victor Nikiforov, the heir apparent of the Russian Empire smiled at Yuuri and took his hand. Victor’s fingers were long and they held Yuuri’s gently, with a tenderness Yuuri could not say he’d been expecting. “Prince Yuurihito, it is wonderful to see you again,” the Grand Duke said. He spoke softly, as he had in the doorway. “I believe we were formally introduced many years ago at the wedding of one of your cousins. Of course then, we were both children.”

Yuuri remembered the slender frame of a boy much taller than he. A flash of long silver hair and a brief clasp of hands near the back of an endless receiving line. A sly smile and a fumbling of words exchanged in English, their only common language: “It’s hot today, Prince.” “Yes.” “It’s a long line.” “It’s a… big family.” Yuuri remembered a few minutes later someone sent a waiter over to his part of the line with cups of water. He was so caught up in the memory, and in the Grand Duke’s warm expression, that he didn’t say anything for much too long.

“Prince Yuurihito,” Yuuri’s father said, with a slight barb in his tone. “His Imperial Highness is here to speak with you about a… personal matter.” His Imperial Highness was also still holding Yuuri’s hand.

“I hope to someday speak with you about many personal matters,” the Grand Duke said and bent his head as he raised Yuuri’s hand to brush a kiss across his knuckles. Strands of his silver hair fell across his brow as he looked up from the kiss and into Yuuri’s wide eyes. “But first, I would like to express to you my most sincere interest in securing your hand in marriage.”

“Oh,” Yuuri breathed as sudden understanding swept over him. He felt his adrenaline spike or his blood sugar drop, something anyway, that made him far too lightheaded to say anything else.

 _How can this be happening?_ he thought desperately. _There must be some mistake._

“Perhaps we should all sit down and discuss the matter,” Yuuri’s father said gently.

“Do you mind if we speak English?” The Grand Duke asked. Yuuri blinked. His Japanese, while not flawless, had been fluent enough that Yuuri hadn’t even thought he might not be comfortable with it.

He nodded as his father said, “Not at all. Of course,” in what now sounded like a heavy accent to Yuuri’s Americanized ears.

“Yuuri looks like he’s going to pass out,” Mari said from the far side of the room. She’d studied at Cambridge, in England, and hers sounded as native as it did bored. She stood with her arms crossed and an unimpressed expression on her face as she gazed at the Grand Duke. Yuuri had completely forgotten she was there.

“Princess Mariko,” Yuuri’s mother said, “Your presence is not required for this discussion. We will keep you abreast of any new developments in the family as they occur.” She motioned for Mari to leave.

Mari scoffed. “Just send me an invitation to the wedding,” she said as she sailed out the door.

The Grand Duke, a paragon of grace and manners, did not betray that he had heard anything out of the ordinary for a house full of Imperial Princes and Princesses.

“W-wedding?” Yuuri asked, helpless to stop himself from sounding terrified as they steered him to sit on one of the cushions at the table. Yuuri clung to the dark lacquered surface. They must have dusted the furniture off before letting the Grand Duke into the room. God, they must have received him earlier, maybe hours ago, and he’d been kept waiting. By Yuuri. “W-when?” he asked, shakily, and not entirely sure if he was asking when the Grand Duke arrived or when the wedding would be. Did he even _want_ to get married? What was happening?

The Grand Duke sat across from Yuuri and Yuuri’s parents settled on either side of him. The Duke raised a hand to draw the hair from his eyes as he smiled gently at Yuuri. He replied, “Oh, not for months. Years if you would prefer to wait. And never, Prince, if you do not desire it.”

Yuuri clasped his hands and pressed them into his lap to stop them from shaking.

“Also, if you need to conclude any schooling, that would absolutely be priority over choosing a date for a ceremony.” The Duke leaned forward, pushing his hand across the table as though to reach out, or grasp at something. At Yuuri? 

Yuuri cast his eyes down at the table. He had no idea what to do.

Yuuri’s parents said nothing, but Minako spoke before Yuuri could decide to break an ever-extending silence. “Forgive me, Your Imperial Highness, but Prince Yuurihito has completed a Bachelor of Arts degree from Harvard University. He has no need to complete any other schooling.” Her tone gave no doubt what decision she would recommend Yuuri make.

The Grand Duke glanced at her, but turned his smile to Yuuri and spoke directly to him once again, “Of course. I only wondered if perhaps you would like to continue your history studies to a Masters’ or PhD level. I would not oppose such a course for you, if that is what you desired, and if we were to be…” He trailed off. 

A playful twinkle came into his eyes then and Yuuri, staring at him and still trying not to shake, couldn’t keep the word inside his mouth. “Married,” Yuuri finished the sentence and blushed beet red.

“Yes,” the Grand Duke replied. “Please, Prince, ask me whatever you wish to know.”

Yuuri hesitated. It seemed strange to ask completely outright what he really wanted to know, but the Duke had said ‘whatever,’ so he said, “Y-your Imperial Highness, we don’t know each other at all. Why do you want to... get married?”

The Grand Duke brought his hands together on the table. “Good question,” he said. “But first, please call me Victor.” He paused, clearly waiting for Yuuri to do so. But he just gaped at the Duke, who continued with a small smile, “I won’t dissemble. My father asked me to arrange an advantageous match. I have completed all my schooling and am of sufficient age. You and I were born to such things, and should not try to paint pictures that are prettier than the truth.”

Yuuri frowned. “That might be the truth, but it’s no answer,” he said, then bit his tongue. He raised his hands hastily, as if to ward off the Duke’s anger, “I-I mean--”

He was cut off by laughter, a bark really, and clear as a bell, coming from the Grand Duke. “No, no, Prince. You’re right. We don’t know each other. And I didn’t really answer. I confess, a match to your household is my ultimate goal, but I came here specifically because what I was able to learn of you--you, Yuurihito of Kyushu--made me think I would like to know you. Do you think you might like to know me?” 

His expression was so gentle and kind, a wordless cajoling, that Yuuri almost said yes right away. But he closed his mouth with a snap, stood quickly and clenched his fists at his sides. The Duke scrambled to stand himself, while Yuuri’s parents were left craning their necks from the floor as Yuuri cried, “I’m sorry, I have to think about it. Please excuse me!” And fled the room.

 

As Victor turned to watch his would-be fiance sprint out of the drawing room, he thought overall the meeting could have gone worse.

So far in his visit to Kyushu, and the small community where this strange branch of the Imperial family lived, Victor had been charmed. Charmed by the tiny train station, by the benevolently neglected castle, which was dusty and worn, yet still evoked a grandness that impressed Victor. He also, perhaps inevitably, had been charmed by Yuurihito himself.

The boy, whose Instagram video had so captivated Victor that he watched it more than 10 times before doing any other research on its subject, was...charming. Clearly taken by surprise, Yuurihito had displayed no artifice that Victor could detect and he found that profoundly refreshing. The long corridors of the Winter Palace, while always welcoming to him, could often be cold and draughty, full of courtiers with faces frozen in the traditional Russian stoicism. 

Victor’s mother had made sure he knew how to laugh and what Victor wanted most out of his search for a husband was to find someone who he could at least make smile sometimes.

Granted, Victor hadn’t yet done anything of the kind for Yuurihito, but he had time, he thought. If the Prince could be convinced to allow it. 

Victor shifted his weight from one foot to the other and drew his hand distractedly through his hair. From the floor, Yuurihito’s father, Prince Toshihito said, “He is a good boy, Your Imperial Highness. He is...hard to know. He has not many friends and maybe not much to do with...such matters before.” Toshihito trailed off but added quickly, after a not-so subtle elbow from his wife, “We think he will come around, though!”

Victor looked down and smiled at the man, who now seemed very small and precious sitting there on the floor. “I would not want him to do anything he doesn’t wish. I am here to woo, not demand, or barter. In matters of the heart, I always strive to be most sincere.” He puffed out his chest a little at that and they both seemed quite impressed. “And please,” Victor added, turning up his own charm, “you both must also call me Victor. Since we are all Imperial Highnesses, I see no reason to stand on ceremony.” 

Princess Hiroko smiled up at Victor in relief then stood, dusting off her pink kimono. “Oh, good. Now then, Vicchan, would you like us to tell you where Yuuri went?”

Victor beamed and struck his hands, palms together in front of his chest. He let the slap resound for a moment before announcing, “Yes, that would be amazing. Thank you!”

 

It wasn’t until Yuuri completed the routine a second time that he noticed the Grand Duke--Victor, he’d said Yuuri should call him--standing at the edge of the ice, leaning forward on the railing. Yuuri skated over to him sheepishly. 

“I’m sorry if I seemed to take off in a rush,” he said, biting back another honorific like Sir, or Your Imperial Highness. “When things get…” Yuuri shook his head and tried to say what he meant that wouldn’t be too embarrassing. “I just like to come here to relax. I shouldn’t have--”

“It’s nothing,” Victor said, waving a imperious hand. “Everyone needs time alone. I would apologize for intruding, but I can’t say that I am sorry. Did you know it was the video, here on this ice, that made me think of you? That pushed me to come here?” His smile was soft and confident as ever, but his eyes betrayed a sweet uncertainty that captivated Yuuri. “I should have just said that before.”

“Eh? Really?” Yuuri put his hands out and grabbed at the rail, steadying his feet. His heart began to beat wildly.

Victor’s smile turned enigmatic. “You’re talented,” he continued. “Do you ever think of competing?”

Yuuri blushed. He’d often longed to be able to show the world what he could do. “I-I couldn’t. Being who I am, it would steal all the attention. It wouldn’t be fair to...you know, everyone else.”

Victor made an impatient gesture and his eyes grew flinty. “Yes, but I wonder in our pursuit of fairness and comfort for everyone else, where is there room for the pursuit of happiness for people such as you and I?”

Yuuri blinked. It was a bold statement, to push back against the privilege they’d both been born to. Yuuri had never heard anyone in his family say such a thing. To suggest that the station of their birth had ever been anything but a blessing. 

When Yuuri didn’t speak right away, Victor’s expression shifted and he suddenly seemed nervous, almost guilty. “Forgive me for intruding, Prince. For speaking so out of turn, I--I’ll leave you--”

“Wait.” Yuuri caught Victor’s hand at the wrist. Victor’s eyes grew wide as they met Yuuri’s. Yuuri’s skates bumped against the boards as the force of their connection pulled him closer to Victor. Yuuri smiled. “Do you want to join me?”

As he took in Victor’s breathless agreement and saw the excitement in his grin while he fumbled to tie the skates Yuko brought out for him, Yuuri thought perhaps together they could find plenty of room to pursue something very like happiness.

When Victor took to the ice, on wobbly legs accompanied by an even wobblier smile, Yuuri held out his hand and said, “Victor, I would like it if you called me Yuuri.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When they were skating, Victor and Yuuri didn’t talk about anything royal at first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to friends new and old for your unwavering enthusiasm.

When they were skating, Victor and Yuuri didn’t talk about anything royal at first. Yuuri wasn’t sure if Victor steered the conversation away on purpose, but it was a nice gesture, one for which he was grateful.

He spoke about his trip from St. Petersburg to Hasetsu. Then about how kind Yuuri’s parents had been to him, despite his unannounced arrival.

Yuuri blushed at that. “We don’t get many visitors l-like you,” he stammered.

“All the more reason to feel welcomed and thankful,” Victor replied easily. His skates were still a little wobbly, but he looked much more confident on the ice.

Victor told Yuuri, perhaps sensing his interest in Victor’s experience, that he had skated as a child, on a lake at their country palace. But that he’d hardly had any time for it once he went away to school. He said, with a touch of nostalgia, “Once I reached perhaps thirteen or so, Father made excuses not to leave St. Petersburg, even during the winter holidays. Soon enough, I’d forgotten all about my fondness for skating.”

Yuuri pivoted on one skate, turning his head to keep his eyes on Victor. He began to skate backwards, one stroke of his to one of Victor’s forward strides, as if they were dancing together on the ice. Very slowly. “You forgot?”

Victor smiled sadly and shrugged. “There was always something else to learn, or do. Ice skating is a solitary pursuit, or one done in pairs. And competition is not…” He hesitated, which was, as far as Yuuri could tell, unlike him. “For appearances and for tradition, I was encouraged to participate in team sports. Football in summer. Fencing indoors in winter. I was my boarding school’s champion in foil three years running.” He winked as he added, “The senior my first year went on to win a gold medal in Athens, so we felt that was all right.”

“We?” Yuuri lifted one skate and turned in a lazy circle around where Victor was still chugging along in a straight line.

Victor’s eyes widened, as though he hadn’t realized he’d mentioned this other person or people. “Yakov. He is a courtier. A schoolmate of my Father’s. A distant cousin, I believe. He was placed in charge of my education.”

“Your Japanese is very good, Victor,” Yuuri said, thinking to compliment that education. They’d done a complete circuit of the rink now and Victor was beginning to pick up his speed.

Victor shrugged, as though his mastery of any number of languages was commonplace.“It’s always been a priority to expand relations in As--” He broke off then, turned a somewhat guilty, then panicked look on Yuuri, and slipped, his skates hobbling wildly, scrambling for purchase where they would find none.

Yuuri reached out and hauled Victor up by his forearms, bracing against the ice with both toe picks of his skates. He almost went down with Victor. 

When they were steady again, Yuuri said softly, but with rising intensity as he began to realize he still felt as though he were falling, “You might--no, you _would_ do better with someone else. Someone who’s been taught as you have. Someone who is prepared. I never thought--Victor, we go to the Imperial Palace for the New Year and Golden Week and Grandfather’s birthday. Father has virtually no Imperial duties. There are no expectations for Mari or I to do anything of any consequence. I wrote my thesis paper on the historical cultivation of rice, for crying out loud! I’m nobody compared to you and I still don’t understand what you’re doing here.”

Victor stared at him. Yuuri realized he was breathing fast, as though they’d been racing around the rink. He didn’t have any time to catch his breath before a determined look came into Victor’s eyes and then Yuuri was being kissed and then they were both tumbling over.

As Yuuri’s backside and head thumped against the ice, Victor’s nose smushed into Yuuri’s, skewing his glasses. Their lips met only briefly before their teeth knocked. Yuuri let out an undignified, unintentional yelp when most of Victor’s weight landed on his stomach and chest. Victor shifted, wincing, and braced both his hands on the ice on either side of Yuuri’s head. He looked down at Yuuri abashedly. “That was not very smooth,” he said, though he didn’t seem entirely displeased with himself. “I’m usually better at this.”

Yuuri, who always figured he should keep at least somewhat abreast of global politics and royal circles, knew that while Victor had never been publicly attached to anyone, he was generally thought of as a player and one of the most eligible bachelors in the world. 

He was also considered one of the most beautiful people on the planet. A fact which was currently staring Yuuri in the face. Victor's eyes were the color of the sky in winter and they were pinned on Yuuri. The elegant arch of Victor's brow rose slightly as he asked, "Yuuri, have you ever had a boyfriend? Or girlfriend?" He did not move to get up from the ice.

Yuuri blamed the shiver that traveled up his spine on the chilled surface at his back and not on the smoldering look that Victor was turning on him. "N-no," he stammered. 

People were intimidating and Yuuri, through his isolated childhood and ever-present privilege, had always felt like an outsider. He’d really only ever felt at home on the ice and in Hasetsu, where no one cared who his grandfather was. 

"You should know that doesn't matter to me," Victor said.

"Okay," Yuuri replied stupidly. "What about everything else?"

Victor pressed his lips to Yuuri's forehead. The kiss was warm and it spread a blush across Yuuri's cheeks. Victor pulled away slowly and shakily got back to his feet. Yuuri looked up at him as he extended his hand down to Yuuri. Victor replied, "Everything else _is_ why I'm here. I don't need someone like me. I need--I _want_ someone like you."

Yuuri took Victor's hand.

 

When they climbed the hill from the Ice Castle back to the real castle where Yuuri lived, Victor was pushed into his room and told sternly by the Princess Hiroko to report directly to the hot springs to warm up.

The first floor of Hasetsu castle and some parts of the upper floors were restored to look as they had at the castle's construction, and were open to the public as a museum. There were both public and private gardens on the estate, which Victor had not yet seen, but had been told were quite beautiful. The hot springs as well were not exclusively for the use of only the family, which Victor found rather extraordinary.

When he'd mentioned how unusual it was for such a high-ranking family to be so open with their property, Toshihito had said, with careless grace, "Why should we not share in our wealth with those we cherish? Hasetsu is our home. Everyone in our home should enjoy what we have to share." 

Victor had felt vaguely chastised by the answer. The Winter Palace was for only his family and the running of the government. All that opulence left cold and idle for a select few. Victor hadn't even lived there full time since he was twelve. His mother now made her permanent home in Sochi where Victor’s father had built her a modern day palace, one she did not share with anyone else.

Victor was sure that at some point the residence portions of Hasetsu Castle had been refurbished and modernized, yet all the rooms retained a sleepy traditionalism that made them seem almost rustic. His room was no different. Floored with traditional tatami mat and panelled with gold-flaked wood, being inside of it felt like stepping into the past.

The secretary, Minako, found him wandering the polished wooden hallways a few minutes later, clad only in a bathrobe. He was familiar already with the customs of the Japanese hot spring, he just wasn’t sure which way to turn to find this one.

At first Minako looked appalled to see him unescorted in the residence, but quickly recovered and presented him with a low bow and a pleasant smile. “Please forgive Their Imperial Highnesses’, ahm, unorthodox ways, Your Imperial Highness. When we have, er, official guests, servants are brought in from the town. I will send for a few straight away. Do you require a valet?”

“Goodness, no,” Victor said. He had an entourage of a kind, which he’d specifically left in St. Petersburg. “My father travels with a permanent valet, but I’ve found I haven’t enough duties for one to perform. And anyway, I’m here as a man, not for my station. I shall require little help. Excepting directions until I learn my way around.”

She fell all over herself to lead the way.

Fortunately, Yuuri was already in the outdoor steaming bath when Victor finally made his way through the sauna and out into the open air. Yuuri was flushed and his skin out of the water was damp with sweat and condensation. He’d left his glasses at the edge of the bath and so squinted slightly before widening his eyes at Victor’s entrance.

“You don’t mind if I join you?” Victor asked quietly. There was a hush to this place, that he felt strange about disturbing.

Yuuri shook his head, so Victor removed his robe and let it drop to the ground.

The boy’s reaction was reward enough for the whole trip, Victor thought. If he had to go back home with no betrothed at all, it would have been worth it for the helpless, hopeless, mixture of shock, heat, adoration, and lust that clouded Yuuri’s expression in that moment. He made some kind of noise that was a combination of squeak and moan, then quickly hid his face in his elbow, as he shifted to cling to the side of the bath.

Victor, as before, was charmed. He felt the promise of Yuuri, the anticipation of having him, glow like a livewire deep in his belly. Victor watched the water sluice off Yuuri’s smooth back as he moved through the bath. He noted that Yuuri’s hair stuck up at the back of his head when it was damp. He saw these things and he wanted. He wanted this boy, more than any lover he’d ever had. 

Victor’s lovers, all male, had mostly been men of his own status--some older, more lately a bit younger--who were just as concerned as he that whatever they got up to together did not make it into the press. More often than not, it was purely a sexual transaction, with none of the messiness that was so entwined with emotional relationships. Victor, of course, knew that this could never be the case with the man he would marry. He’d deliberately held himself apart from his lovers, for this specific purpose. 

If he was to be forced into a political match, he would force the match to meet his own desires. He wanted to love the person he married. And now, he was pleased to discover, he wanted very much to love Yuuri. 

Which meant that he would take pity on Yuuri’s delicately ruffled sensibilities and sit down in the hot spring. Close to him, but not too close. It wouldn’t do at all to scare him off. Especially not now that Victor knew Yuuri really was the man he’d come looking for.

 

Yuuri thought he would have been able to think of something to say, if only Victor wasn’t so naked. And so next to him. Yuuri wasn’t entirely sure what he’d been thinking, that led him to indicate to Victor that sharing the hot spring would be to be fine. 

He should have just gotten out of the water. But then he would have exposed himself to Victor and that was absolutely not an option. And how was he going to get out of the water now? He was already pruning in a very unattractive way, but he was doomed to stay until Victor got out. He buried his face further into his arms at the edge of the bath. He felt hot and increasingly uncomfortable.

“Do you find me so unappealing?” Victor asked in a low, amused voice.

Yuuri whipped his head up and met Victor’s inquiring eyes. “No,” he protested. “I should cool down soon, is all.”

Victor eased himself even further into the water, bracing his neck against the side of the bath and tilting his head up to the sky. “Sit with me,” he said. It wasn’t a question or a command, so much as a plea. He closed his eyes and hummed softly in pleasure.

Yuuri couldn’t deny him. 

He sat back in the same way, first wetting his small towel and wringing it out to place over his forehead and eyes, to cool his face. After a moment of silence, Victor began to speak. He said, “My mother hates my father, Yuuri.”

Yuuri sat up, nearly slipping down so far that his head might have dipped under the water. “Eh?” He said. “What?”

Victor didn’t move, only cracked open one eye and stared down Yuuri’s shocked expression. “It is a well kept and closely guarded secret. Being who you are, I know you understand the value of discretion. If you keep my secrets, Prince, I will always, always safeguard yours.”

“O-of course,” Yuuri stammered. “I’m sorry, Victor.”

Victor smiled. Yuuri could not know if it was because of his sympathy, or purely the fact that he’d called him by name. 

“You must know that my mother is a member of the British royal family. Her grandmother was the Queen before her uncle succeeded. Her mother is a Princess.” Victor drew his hands through the water as he spoke and his eyes were hooded, lids drooping sleepily, as though the subject bored him. Yuuri was riveted. He continued, “She held no high title before she married. She was merely Lady Helena. A fact I think my father chose her for, as she would have slightly farther to fall should she ever decide to divorce him.”

“Would she?”

Victor shrugged. “Probably not. She pines for the day he drops dead, then she can be Dowager and move home to England and never think of ‘sodding St. Petersburg’ again.” A tension had risen in Victor’s brow and across his shoulders, as though he were concentrating very hard on carrying a weight.

He seemed so lost in his thoughts on his mother that he didn’t speak again until Yuuri asked quietly, “She wouldn’t come see you?”

Victor looked up, his expression a studied mask of neutrality. “She visited me plenty when I was studying in Oxford and London. In fact, I’m sure she pushed for my education to move there just to have the excuse. But, no, if my father were not alive to insist she reside in his country, she would never return. And I would not force her.”

“Why?”

Victor met Yuuri’s eyes, intently, and he reached for Yuuri, gripping his arms and pulling him closer, out into the deeper part of the bath. Yuri felt suddenly faint, the heat and the closeness to Victor rising inside him. Victor said, “It’s because they only saw the prize. The political ties, the personal gain.” His hands around Yuuri’s arms tightened. “Do you understand?”

Yuuri frowned. “I’m not sure.” He felt light-headed again. Victor wasn’t making any sense. “If you want a love match, I still don’t see what you’re doing here.”

Victor huffed and let him go. He drew a wet hand through the front of his hair, slicking it back. He was angry for some reason and now he looked a little like a gangster. He didn’t speak for a long moment, clearly wrestling with something. Yuuri felt at sea. “A true love match is an impossibility. I--” He broke off suddenly. “Yuuri, are you all right?”

In the next moment there was a wet hand on his cheek. He was being pulled up. When had Yuuri sunk so low in the water?

“You’re too flushed,” Victor said, concern hardening his tone. His hand slipped under Yuuri’s arm, pulling him towards the edge of the bat again. “Let’s come out now. Come on.”

It took a great heave on Victor’s part to get them both out of the water. Yuuri was shaking his head, mumbling “Sorry,” over and over--sorry for feeling so hot, sorry for almost fainting, sorry for completely missing whatever the point was--so he didn’t realize that Victor had pulled the pump and filled the bucket full of cool well water until it was dumped over his head.

Yuuri sputtered in surprise, but blinked alert eyes up at Victor, who was staring down at him in genuine concern. “No, I’m sorry,” he said plaintively. “I didn’t listen to you. You said you should get out soon, and I didn’t listen.”

“I-it’s okay,” Yuuri replied. “I’m okay now.”

Victor clearly didn’t believe him. He began to speak rather quickly, in an increasingly higher pitched tone, “You should drink some of this water, too. A rinse off won’t cut it. You must be dehydrated. Did you eat today? Yuuri, I didn’t distract you from eating, did I? It’s well after lunch!”

Yuuri gazed up at Victor in astonishment. He took a step forward, unbidden, and Victor shut his mouth, his eyes widening. “Please don’t worry yourself over me,” Yuuri said softly and placed his hand on Victor’s bare chest. 

Victor’s smile was like sunshine as he leaned into Yuuri’s touch. “You may think on my proposal as long as you like, Yuuri,” he said. “And you may reject it whenever you wish. But until that time, I choose to worry.”

Yuuri opened his mouth, and almost thought better of the words he wanted to say. They spilled out regardless. “What if I accept?”

“Then I will still worry--and I will take care of you--always,” Victor said. 

Yuuri did not move his hand, which was now the only warm part of his chilled skin, as he replied, “Okay. Let me think about it some more.”


	3. Chapter 3

A modern-style kitchen had been installed on the second floor of Hasetsu castle with an informal dining room attached. It was there that Yuuri led Victor once they had both dried off and changed. 

As they sat down across from each other at a western-style table with chairs, Yuuri told him, “We have an in-house chef who also cooks for the museum cafe.” He seemed a little embarrassed about it. Victor couldn’t tell if it was because of the extravagance of having the chef or the fact that the family shared the chef with the museum. "We only make a little more than upkeep for the public areas from the tourists," Yuuri added hastily. "In the cafe and the gift shop, I mean. Tickets are completely free. It's not even that nice," he babbled.

Victor smiled. His worry must be that Victor might perceive some exploitation of the public. "Don’t be silly,” he said to dissuade him, “my father owns real estate in all major Russian cities, most of the rural provinces, and several foreign countries. Many of those properties are tied to our history and make a substantial amount of money for my family. In fact, I think the majority of my education was paid for by domestic bus tours of palaces for seniors."

"O-oh," Yuuri replied, ducking his head. "My uncles snicker behind my father's back. They all head international foundations--charities for water, clean air, things like that. One is a well-respected economics professor. Grandfather doesn't like the museum idea. He wants the estates to remain private. Protected. But it's the only thing my father's ever pushed back against the family about. He really believes in opening the houses as a way to connect with our people."

Victor planted his elbows on the table and leaned forward slightly. He’d been thinking on this subject ever since he realized how closely intertwined Yuuri’s family and their community really were. "I've always felt that the great houses are an extension of our lives,” he said. “The way our duties are tied to country, and to family, and family is tied to these spaces. The estates--the palaces, castles, gardens--are tied to the people. They are symbols in the same way we are, and if we share ourselves--our life's work, our faces in social media--shouldn't we also share where we live? Or part of it anyway."

Yuuri looked surprised for a moment, then nodded. “That’s how my father feels.”

“I respect him greatly for it,” Victor replied. “Do you feel that way as well?”

Yuuri hesitated. “I understand both sides, I think. Father, and you, are right of course. With our rank and our wealth, we represent our empires. The people have a right to our lives because we take from them in various ways. Yet, in Japan, there is a...sanctity to the Chrysanthemum Throne that is different, I think, from many royal families. We aren’t only _anointed_ by God, we _come from_ a goddess. We are her children...if you believe in that sort of thing.” 

Yuuri had spoken quietly, but forcefully, and with conviction. Victor felt a rush of warmth for him. Yuuri was intelligent. Of course he was--they don’t let idiots into Harvard. But he had clearly thought deeply about the implications of the history of his family, despite his distance from the throne and from the inner-workings of the capital.

Victor beamed at him, greatly encouraged that his instincts had been correct. Yuuri possessed even more aptitude to be Victor’s husband than he had anticipated. The question now was whether Yuuri wanted to embrace the role, or Victor for that matter.

“Do you?” Victor asked.

“Do I what?” Yuuri adjusted his glasses, in what Victor thought was an outrageously cute gesture.

“Believe in that sort of thing.”

Yuuri smirked. “Do you believe when you are crowned that you will be anointed by God?”

“Yes,” Victor said simply. “It may sound strange in modern times, but it represents an idea that I can’t help but take seriously. I refuse to accept my station as accident of birth, or the turning of fate. I have to believe that I am who I am for a reason.”

Yuuri tilted his head. “I’m not sure what I believe,” he replied. “I truly never thought…”

“You would not have needed to,” Victor told him and briefly patted his hand. He leaned away. This was too much, too soon. “Don’t worry about that now.” He thrust his hands together, rubbing them excitedly. “What are we eating?!”

 

“ _Katsudon_ ,” Yuuri announced, when the chef presented their trays. “Pork cutlet fried with an egg, over rice.”

“Ooh,” Victor said, his eyes shining. “I’ve seen this on menus before, but never ordered it.”

Yuuri blushed as he admitted, “It’s my favorite dish.”

Victor beamed. “Perhaps it will be my favorite too,” he said with a wink. He picked up his chopsticks and, with expert precision, picked up a slice of the pork and popped it in his mouth. The noise he made, Yuuri would remember forever, was orgasmic. “Yuuuuri,” he crooned as soon as he swallowed. “This is… amazing!”

Yuuri blushed harder, embarrassed enough to shrink away. “I’m glad you like it.”

Victor nodded enthusiastically and began shovelling the food into his mouth. Yuuri ate as well, but more slowly as he began to think again about what was happening. Victor wasn’t here just to share family secrets and delicious food. Yuuri had to decide if he would accept the Grand Duke’s proposal.

Eventually, Yuuri broke their silence by saying, “I can ask you whatever I want?”

Victor paused in his enjoyment of the meal. Looking up, almost like a hopeful puppy, he answered, “Yes. Yes, of course. Anything.”

“Is your father in good health?”

Victor dropped his chopsticks and Yuuri knew then that he’d definitely offended him. But in the next moment, Victor was smiling, wide, as though he’d just been presented with a gift. Beaming, he replied, “As far as I know, he’s in excellent health. There is always a chance of some misfortune, some accident. But my father married and started his family quite young. Perhaps too young. In any event, he at least has plans to live a very long life. Thank you for asking.”

Yuuri looked away. “I thought you might find it rather…” 

“Mercenary?”

“Calculating,” Yuuri choked. He was a terrible conversationalist. If he said yes to Victor’s proposal, how was he ever going to get through...whatever his duties would be? Ugh, he didn’t even know what would be expected of him, so why was he even entertaining the idea of saying yes?

Victor laughed and Yuuri thought, _oh_. Victor waved his hands, dismissing Yuuri’s anxieties. He was finished eating already. He protested. “Not at all, Yuuri. It shows foresight. I’m impressed.”

Yuuri found himself blushing again. He quickly turned the conversation back to Victor. “What do you plan to do before...uh...”

“My father dies and I ascend the Imperial Throne of Russia?” Victor was still smiling at him, strangely serene.

“Y-yes.” It sounded so surreal just laid out like that. Yuuri had been raised in the circle of such power, but never so near to it.

“I will tell you, Yuuri, but I would like you to keep eating. Please don’t let this conversation get in the way of taking care of yourself. Or, of enjoying your favorite meal.”

Yuuri stilled, then warmed, across his cheeks again but also spreading to his chest. He nodded and picked up another bite of egg and rice.

Victor made a pleased noise, very quietly, but something in Yuuri tensed in echoed pleasure at the sound. He thought he’d like to hear it again. 

Victor said, “I would like to be a diplomat. I want to travel the world and speak with leaders in business and government. I want to represent my country, my empire, and do good things in her name. For my people.” He sighed and looked away briefly before meeting Yuuri’s eyes and adding, “What my father will allow me to do remains to be seen.”

Yuuri paused with another bite hovering below his mouth. “He doesn’t want you to be a diplomat?”

Victor’s eyes were sad, but he smiled softly as he said, “I never know what he wants.” 

“Oh,” Yuuri said. He set down his chopsticks and reached out to take Victor’s hand. Victor looked startled at first, but then his expression warmed, his eyes shining. Yuuri made himself ask, “Are you sure _this_ ,” he squeezed Victor’s hand, “is what he wants?”

Victor blinked and opened his mouth, before closing it quickly, as though he’d thought better of his answer. “I know that he desires me to make a match. Now. He said only with a sister empire, but I inferred Japan and have chosen your family for my own reasons. I have chosen you for my own reasons, as well. He can dictate to me, Yuuri, and I can try to please him, but I am my own man and, in the end, do what I think best.”

“And you think I am best?” Yuuri asked, his voice small, afraid.

Victor took both Yuuri’s hands in both of his. “ _Yes_.”

Yuuri shook his head and pulled away. Victor lifted his chin in a gesture that might have seemed proud had his expression not been so full of warmth. He let Yuuri go. He said, “I have to make some calls. I’m sure you’d like some time alone with your thoughts. I’ll come find you later.”

 

Over the phone, Yakov rarely bothered with pleasantries. "Your father got a hold of your travel itinerary," he said without preamble. 

Victor snorted. He looked out his guest room window and over the ocean as he spoke. "You mean, you gave it to him?" 

"Yes, Your Highness." 

Victor rolled his eyes. He could hardly expect Yakov to not do his job. He was well aware part of said job was to report to the Tsar on Victor’s life. "Well,” Victor said. “And...?" 

"He wished me to articulate a desire for...hesitance in speaking with the boy in Kyushu or his family." 

Victor sighed. "It's much too late for that, Yakov." 

"I see,” Yakov didn’t sound upset precisely. More as though he’d been presented with an interesting puzzle. “Is there a way to--" 

"No," Victor said before he could finish. 

"Then he's accepted. Has the family contacted his grandfather?" Yakov sounded much more worried now and Victor narrowed his eyes. 

He tapped his foot impatiently. "Yuuri hasn't accepted. But I will wait for his answer....what is Father’s objection?" 

"I haven’t spoken to him on this specific matter,” Yakov replied. “I will see what I can find out.”

Victor smirked. In Yakov speak that meant, _I have an idea, but I’m not saying anything so you can do as you please for a while longer. But hurry up and finish what you’re doing that’s going to make him so angry because this shit is hard and makes my life hell._

“Thank you, Counselor,” Victor said softly.

“It’s my pleasure, Your Imperial Highness.”

As ever, they cut the line before saying goodbye.

In addition to the call he’d just returned from Yakov, Victor had received text messages, more than several actually, from Yuri Plisetsky. He was the fifteen-year-old grandson of the Tsar's most trusted adviser, a student of the same boarding school Victor had attended outside Moscow, and someone who, for some reason, was incredibly invested in what Victor did with his time.

Victor remembered when Yuri was born, his mother had died in the hospital. It had been a great shock to the Court. Victor was twelve and had not yet left for school. His own mother had not yet removed herself completely from the Winter Palace. Everyone wore black and the baby squalled all through the funeral. Little Yuri had grown up angry. Not ideal for the cunningly conciliatory attitude of court life. And Victor had always had a soft-spot for the motherless boy, who he saw often at court and family functions.

If Yuri had ever thought of Victor as a mentor or role-model--someone to be revered or respected--he was not in the habit of showing it. His text read, _TELL ME YOU DIDN'T GO AND PROPOSE TO THAT JAPANESE IDIOT FROM THE VIDEO I SAW YOU WATCHING._

His second through tenth text were of similar content, but increasingly negative towards Yuuri and to Victor's decision-making abilities. The eleventh and final text gave Victor pause, as it said only, _Yakov said to stop bothering you._

Victor clenched his teeth and typed out his response, _I left my phone in my room here. Yes, I am in Hasetsu in Kyushu. Yes, I've proposed to Yuurihito. I do not know that he'll accept, so you can hold off your panic attack a little longer._

A moment later, Yuri replied, _GOD, YOU'RE SO STUPID. MAYBE HE'LL HAVE MORE SENSE THAN YOU AND SAY NO._

Victor huffed a short laugh. _Maybe_ , he texted back and put his phone away again.

He found he rather liked being without it here. In Hasetsu Castle, without his phone, it really did feel like he'd stepped away from the real world. Victor wasn't sure he could say he'd ever done that before. He thought, if Yuuri did take his time making a decision, Victor might not mind it so much. It had been a long time since he'd taken a vacation.

 

Victor found Yuuri in his room about an hour after they’d parted. “Minako told me where to go,” he said, humor lighting his eyes. 

Yuuri saw him note the bareness of the walls and the boxes with address forms in English and Japanese haphazardly taped to the outside. “I haven’t really unpacked yet,” Yuuri said.

“You’ve been home since graduation, haven’t you?” Victor leaned against the doorframe, his arms and legs crossed elegantly. Yuuri thought, not for the first time, that he’d make a excellent figure skater. He’d have the most beautiful form.

Yuuri shook his head. “No, only since August. I stayed in Boston for the summer to help a professor compile a textbook. And I wanted to travel more in America.” It was a big country and he’d wanted to see as much of it as he could before coming back to Japan. It was September now.

Victor put his chin in his hand. “You aren’t excited to be home,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“No, no,” Yuuri protested. “I just didn’t--don’t know what to do with myself.” The truth was, it didn’t quite feel like home anymore. But Yuuri knew he just needed time to get used to it again.

“Do you want to go to the ocean with me?” Victor asked. “I can hear the gulls from here. It’s making me think of my home.”

Yuuri stood, nodding, and followed Victor out the door.

They took the causeway out towards the town and looked out over the sea. It was late afternoon and only cold enough for a light jacket. Victor wore a scarf anyway. He lifted his face to the breeze and breathed in deeply. 

“When I was very young,” Victor said. “I thought I would never leave St. Petersburg. Not for as long as I have.” Yuuri nodded. He’d felt the same way about Japan. “There are only rivers in Oxford and London. The ocean seems very far away and it feels small. Tame. Not like this. This feels like home.”

“We can go down to the beach, if you like,” Yuuri said. “It’s not far.”

Victor grinned. They backtracked a little and took steps down to where sand met the water. There were trees all around and the air seemed to take on a deeper chill as the sun sank closer to the sea.

It was nice to be there with Victor, who so clearly appreciated their surroundings in a way Yuuri hadn’t thought to for a long time. They sat down in the sand, side by side, and stared out at the horizon.

“I worked fiercely in London,” Victor said after a while. “I never took a break. I wanted to prove to my father, to everyone, that I had made the right choice to continue my studies abroad. That I wasn’t abandoning my country. Everything I did at University, everything I learned, was about and for Russia.”

“It must have been hard,” Yuuri said softly.

“It was.” Victor turned to Yuuri and smiled. “But I’m finished now and ready to move forward.”

“With me.” Yuuri couldn't stop his voice from sounding skeptical.

Victor shrugged--not as though he didn’t care, but as though he just didn’t know. “If you wish. I told you, I can wait. We can just sit here and talk. You don’t have to decide tonight.”

But Yuuri did feel like he had to decide. It didn’t seem fair to let Victor sit there and continue to believe that marrying Yuuri was the right thing to do. There seemed to be conflict in Victor’s family that Yuuri had never heard about, and wouldn’t have any idea how to navigate. He had studied some political science at Harvard, but not nearly enough to feel comfortable wading into the waters of international diplomacy. And even more importantly, Yuuri had never even been in a relationship, how could he--

He just couldn’t.

Yuuri shook his head, grimacing, as he said, all in a rush, “You seem to think that I’m what you need, Victor, but I don’t know that. All I can think of is how I will disappoint you. And I don’t want to. I want--”

“What do you want, Yuuri?” Victor’s eyes were clear and seemed to be deeply concerned at Yuuri’s distress. He was so beautiful and had already been so kind. Yuuri would only reward his kindness with flailing, uncompromising, failure.

Deep, somewhere inside himself, Yuuri realized then that he wanted to say yes, but instead he cried, “It would be a disaster.” 

“Why?”

“You’ve only known me for this short time. There are parts of me you haven’t seen.”

Victor smiled then, as though Yuuri had said something amusing. “I hope to see them in the future. As I said, you can take as long as you like.”

Yuuri scowled. It wasn’t funny. He should just say no. And then Victor could go and propose to one of Yuuri’s cousins. There were two others exactly his age, as well. They--all three of them--even looked a little alike, though the others were both taller than Yuuri. That would be better, too, wouldn’t it?

Something gnawed low in Yuuri’s stomach. “And you’ll just stay here?” he grumbled. “And wait for my answer?”

“Yes,” Victor replied, as though it would be only natural.

Yuuri expelled a hot breath and tightened his arms around his knees.

Victor said nothing. They watched the sun set.

When it sunk below the water and only an orange haze lit the sky in front of them, Victor asked quietly, “Do you want to go back now?”

To his surprise, Yuuri didn’t. He wanted to explain himself, at least a little. He wanted Victor to understand why he should say no-- _would_ say no--so he wouldn’t be upset.

Yuuri told him, “T-there was a girl that I knew in Boston. A classmate and friend. She was pushy. She knew what she wanted. When she--I pushed her away. Even though I’d thought about it before. I couldn’t make the move first and I...when it finally happened, I realized I didn’t want it.”

“Why not?” Victor didn’t seem angry or uncomfortable that Yuuri was talking about this person from his past. Or even very surprised at the dramatic change in subject. His eyes were curious and he wasn’t judging. He also didn’t seem jealous, not like Yuuri would have been.

“I couldn’t show myself to her,” Yuuri said. “I felt like she wouldn’t want the real me, inside. And I know it’s not fair, because I never gave her a chance, but--

“If it didn’t feel right, it wasn’t right, Yuuri,” Victor said and leaned towards Yuuri, though didn’t touch him. But even the little bit closer he got, somehow made Yuuri feel better. 

“I don’t know how to tell,” Yuuri whispered, like it was a shameful secret.

Victor’s expression seemed at once kind and bewildered. “You will,” he said with absolute certainty.

Yuuri pressed his forehead and eyes to his knees. “But you need me to know now. Even if I wait to decide, you still need me to know.”

Victor straightened in response and his face turned serious. “I don’t,” he said. He brushed a hand across Yuuri’s shoulder, prompting him to look up and straight into Victor’s eyes. “You misunderstand my wishes, Yuuri. I don’t need you to know anything. I don’t _know_ anything either. What I want you to do, if you accept, is promise to try.”

Yuuri frowned. He unfolded his legs and turned his body to face Victor. “Try?”

Victor nodded. “My parents gave up. They only saw the political benefits of their match, not the person who would give them those things. I came here because your video showed me a person I wanted to know, a person I think I could love. I don’t know that I love you, or that I will love you. But I want to try. Because you seemed kind and brave--yes, brave, Yuuri, he added when Yuuri looked away, suddenly overwhelmed. 

“After spending today with you,” Victor continued. “I can say that you _are_ kind and brave and smart. You don’t think that you would be good at being the husband of a diplomat, or a Grand Duke, or the Tsar and Emperor of all of Russia, but I can assure you, you already have all the tools you’ll need. All the important ones, anyway. And I’m sure that you have shortcomings, but you haven’t seen mine yet either. Really, they aren’t very pretty.”

Yuuri huffed a laugh, though he knew Victor wasn’t joking. He looked down at his hands. He couldn’t be letting Victor convince him, could he?

But he just let Victor keep right on going, “I want always to give my people what they deserve. A strong royal family is part of a strong government and a strong county. My father thinks strength is for him alone to display. He drove my mother away with it and his pride prevents him from reconciling with her. Loving you, if you’ll let me, is the way I want to show my strength and my humanity to my people.” At Yuuri’s questioning look, he added, “They do care that we are human. Modern people no longer want to be ruled by gods or monsters. And you are very human, Yuuri. Very lovable and--”

Yuuri closed his eyes. “Shut up,” he whispered.

Victor fell silent and when Yuuri looked up again there was a resignation in his eyes that had turned his expression stony. Yuuri’s heart ached. “I didn’t mean…”

“We should head back,” Victor said in a strained voice and stood. He brushed the sand off his pants with precise, but forceful motions.

“Wait,” Yuuri cried as he stood. He reached out and stilled Victor’s hands, cradling them in shaking fingers.

“Yuuri…” Victor’s breath caught.

Yuuri stared into Victor’s eyes, the blue of them looked deeper in the waning light. They were stormy, like clouds. “What were you going to say?” he asked in a choked, desperate voice. “I’m very lovable and…?”

“You aren’t what anyone will expect,” Victor said. He looked hopeful now and Yuuri, his ancestors help him, wanted to keep that light in Victor’s eyes.

“It will be hard,” Yuuri said. There was no way around that.

Victor smiled. “Well, it won’t be easy. But, I’ve never really wanted easy. Have you?”

Yuuri blinked. His family could have lived in Tokyo, surrounded by the barrier of Grandfather’s beloved privacy. Yuuri himself could have gone to school at the Gakushuin and gone on to the university there or Todai, but instead he studied hard and went to Harvard, far away from his home and even farther away from the Imperial bubble. 

He’d been depressed, now that he really thought about it, to come back home and run the Ice Castle and take over the museum with Mari when his father no longer could. It seemed a sad end to a grand adventure, but he hadn’t had any idea what else he could do.

Now, here was another adventure. Here was Victor standing patiently, waiting to hand him something he hadn’t even known he wanted. Ready to help him, care for him, and share in it with him.

“No,” Yuuri said, smiling. “Easy is boring.”

“Well, I am never that,” Victor said with a wink. He turned Yuuri’s fingers in his own and raised them to his lips, the right first, then the left. “Do you want me to ask again?”

Yuuri shook his head. Victor watched him, carefully, as though he had no idea what Yuuri would do. And Yuuri found he sort of liked that. Being unexpected. 

He said, slowly, and with a small smile on his face, “Victor Nikiforov, Your Imperial Highness, Heir Tsesarevich and Grand Duke of Russia, it would be my great pleasure and privilege to accept your proposal of marriage.” 

Victor’s eyes were shining in the low moonlight as Yuuri went on to say, “I do want to go with you, to help you serve your country--and mine--I want to be what you need me to be, Victor.” He grinned and leaned forward to press his forehead against Victor’s. “They’ll never see us coming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to new and old friends (and new betas!) for helping to make this fic what it is. Thanks for the show for being magical etc. And thanks to all the readers who left beautiful comments and kudos.
> 
> Find me at norgbelulah on tumblr and twitter to chat about this, the _sequel_ I'm working on, and anything and everything else.

**Author's Note:**

> I have taken SO MUCH license with the history and culture of these two global super powers. Sorry, not sorry. Everything in this is fake but I have tried very hard to make it seem plausible. But don't think too hard about it. Thanks for reading!


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